No, troth, here the Doctor does nothing but dream,
For he is too purblind to ken the subleeme’—
‘Hold, hold, my good friend—I must stand by old Milton,
While the sword that I wear has a blade or a hilt on;
That great politician, that torch of our nation,
Must never be mentioned without veneration:
Respecting the Doctor, you say very true,
I think him as scurvy a critic as you,
But consider him now in a worse point of view:
Pray is he not pensioned?—and does he not write, Sir,